Grunts
by HamstanatorX
Summary: Grunt grunt grunt. That's all he does that Sirius Black. [one.shot] [drabble]


**Disclaimer:**** I own none of the characters owned already by JK Rowling. I am immensely poor and am gaining nothing from this piece. Thankssss!**

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**Grunts**

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He grunted. That's all he ever did to me really- grunt. Like a dog. He grunted a lot. I'm not sure why, if it was meant to be just a response to whatever I said, or if it was something he had picked up in Azkaban. I wasn't sure really, but he always had to grunt.

It was insatiably rude. It was old, and deep, somewhat snorty, and his eyes always looked to the right- my left- whenever he did.

He did it because he thought I was immature and not meant to be a part of this Order. I knew that was why. I tried to humor him, keep him in spirits like the others did. But for some reason I didn't affect him like everyone else did…it made me wonder. Considering I usually always got _some_ kind of a reaction out of people when I opened my mouth.

I stared up at him presently with my large, ice blue, saucer-like eyes. Well I wasn't look _at _him. Just slightly above his shoulder and to the left, at a hair sticking up from his head. He looked at me quizzically with a thin brown raised.

"Luna, can you take the mission or not? Luna? Hello? Earth to Loon-"

"Yes."

I piped up, my own voice sticky sweet and high pitched- like I just got done eating a pound of candy.

He looked down at me and nodded solemnly. While he jabbered like a lunatic around Harry, he was a man of few words towards me. Nothing needed to be said really. His gaunt, seemingly emotionless face told me everything. It was his eyes more or less, that really stood out to me. They told epics of horror. Tales of fear. And every once in a while, (mostly around Harry) ballads of happiness and joy from way back when.

"You have to take one member- male. Dumbledore insisted. You are _not_ to go alone. Understand?"

"Alllllll right then," came a dreamy sigh, "I choose you."

He blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"I said I choose you. I don't think I'll live long this time Sirius. You understand."

* * *

And so we found ourselves in a tiny cave above a small town with a large, white, wooden mansion at the foot of the mountain we were hiding out in. We were huddled in the back, a small fire the only thing besides our cloaks to keep us warm. I smiled wearily, clutching my dark cloak to my thin frame.

"Sirius. Do you ever think about life?" I said it plainly.

"…what do you mean?" Came uncertainty.

"Do you ever question if you think you're living like you should? Or just wishing you could just be dead after living so long through the torment and horrors you've gone through."

I didn't say the last part as a question.

He shivered in his cloak, eyeing the fire with a tired and glazed look. I knew he was back in that cell in Azkaban. Seeing the Dementors. I touched his shoe lightly- the only thing closest to me. His thin and slightly scruffy face looked at me. His lank and dark hair creating a curtain over his dark eyes. They were like a sea after a hurricane. They were filled with so much…just so much…

He grunted.

That infernal grunt!

I smiled my small smile and looked back at the flames silently. I stopped and looked up. Sirius noticed and looked up as well.

"What?" he asked, seeing nothing.

I looked at him and smiled, pointing a finger at the roof of our small cave.

"Pyre-flies. They're here. It's time to go."

With my smile still in place I got up and dusted myself off, taking out my wand. Sirius got up, slower, and still looking at the ceiling in confusion. He put out the flames and we walked.

We walked and walked and walked. We fell and slipped and climbed down the mountain. There would be no apparating tonight. We were stealth personified. He was the shadows and I was the silence.

"Pyre-flies…?"

He questioned.

"Pyre-flies."

I answered.

"….?"

"They're the remants of souls unwillingly killed. They signify death. The souls of those not sent."

"And how did you see them?"

"You only have to look."

_Grunt_

'Grunt grunt grunt', I mimicked to myself.

We came to the mansion.

I stepped in front of Sirius, this being my mission. I intended to take what I knew was coming. It was the sacrifice I knew I had to do. I opened the door.

A light erupted and all I saw was white.

My lips moved, but no words came out. Just barely, the tiniest of all whispers, softer than the gentle breeze that pushed my hair from my face.

'Sirius'

* * *

I was being shaken. I couldn't move, or open my eyes. I felt. I smelled. I heard. That was it. I felt warmth against my side and breast. I felt wetness- salty and warm- on my cheeks and forehead, creating rivers down my face. I smelled metallic- blood- but also the scent of air. It was clean and brisk and cold. It was coming from what my nose was pressed against. It also smelled like soap, and sweat, and warmth. It was beautiful.

I only heard faint things. A sob. A scream. Then silence. Then I heard it all.

"Luna…Luna please…don't go…child don't leave…I can't…I won't…I-I-I…I-I won't leave you. I was supposed to protect you," A deep rumbling came from his chest. I felt it on my cheek. I could hear his hoarse, deep, drum-like voice cracking only slightly. Like a glacier about to fall apart.

"Luna…Please…I love you…"

I know.

I wanted to say.

I know. I know. I know.

Words were never needed. The times we had spoke for itself….

He grunted. But after every grunt came a sarcastic reply, or a handsome smile or smirk. Those made me laugh. After every silent meeting and dinner we had, where no words were spoken, he would take me into a small room upstairs and just hold me, whispering things into my ears that made my knee's weak. He talked and talked. And then we'd sleep. Together. In the same arms he held me in now.

Though then, I wasn't dieing. Then, he wasn't holding onto me for dear life. Then- well, back then…a lot of things were different.

And now?

I was slipping. I felt my life going. I became more limp, my muscles relaxed, accepting the doom. He held on tighter, screaming, yelling, shaking me, begging me, begging the gods, any god, all gods, mercy, mercy, mercy! Take me, take me! Tears, tears. Then he stopped. He was looking down at me. I could feel it. He sniffled, and leaned down, pressing his salty, chapped lips softly to mine.

Our first kiss.

How ironic, I thought, and it has to be our last…

With my last bit of life…and energy…I barely moved my lips, if, in a way, returning his kiss. Just barely…

And then…

I was gone.


End file.
